


The Birth of Q

by TokiMirage



Series: Quintessence [1]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: BAMF!Q, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TokiMirage/pseuds/TokiMirage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q wasn't always the adorable Quartermaster we know and love. Darker shadows than one might see lay beneath the mop of dark hair and the white reflection of glass. Here-in lies the rather sordid affair that brought Q to M's attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quintessence
> 
> n.
> 
> 1\. The most perfect or typical example of a quality or class
> 
> 2\. The aspect of something regarded as the intrinsic and central constituent of its character
> 
> 3\. A refined essence or extract of a substance
> 
> 4\. (In classical and medieval mythology) A fifth substance in addition to the four elements, thought to compose the heavenly bodies and and to be latent in all things

It’s quiet again. It’s always quiet, unlike their last apartment. No more screaming neighbors at four in the morning when the drunk husband in the flat below finally stumbles in. Quentin almost misses the routine. He’s never been in one place long enough to get truly attached anymore. No, he learned his lesson after Robert.

Growing attached makes it harder when you have to leave.

Judy hasn’t returned yet. It isn’t unusual for Quentin to have arrived before her. His new school isn’t very far, but she always gets upset if he wanders off instead of coming back to wherever they’re living that month.

Adults like to be in control of the things in their environment.

Quentin used to hate her for it. He’d never be able to stay in the library for long, and she would only let him take out five books at a time. Only so many as he could return by himself, on his way to school.

But by the time he was ten, he’d long become bored by the children’s section and sought out more  _useful_  things. Like computers. The few times he’d had unlimited access to one of those magical machines, he’d stumbled and hesitated, unable to grasp the system’s complexities. It had led him to stubbornly peeling apart that section of the library until he’d felt prepared enough to try again.

It was never enough. Unlike his classes, there was always so much more he didn’t know or understand. There was no teacher or other students to set the pace, and time twisted, skewed, and warped until the next time Judy accidentally left her laptop unprotected.

The third time he attacked the machine, he’d been thrilled and flush with a sense of accomplishment as he categorically eviscerated her files until nothing had escaped his all-seeing eye.

Nothing except the invisible drive she’d cleverly hidden as a collection of recipes.

Quentin had scoffed at her attempt at subtlety, but no matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to crack the code that protected it. At the time, he had been forced to admit defeat, in light of Judy’s return from a night out with The Girls.

Quentin has never been able to see the appeal of spending copious amounts of time around others. He much prefers his quiet room and an interesting book.

It is his diligence and proclivity for thorough, perfect, beautiful work that has led to this moment. The moment when Quentin finds out The Secret that Judy has been hiding from him. The moment when he sees what has been taunting him from behind code-laden doors for nearly a year.

Quentin is two days shy of his eleventh birthday when he discovers an ugly truth.

Adults do everything in their power to control people in their environment.

Quentin used to hate her for it.

Now he hates her for the pictures. Now, he hates her for the meticulous records keeping that outlines a world-shattering betrayal. Now, he hates, no,  _despises_  the usurper who has betrayed and gutted and  _chained_.

It is in this moment that he makes a vow of destruction. A path that will take him down a dark and difficult road. A choice that will rock the foundations of his reality from that day forward.

Quentin will erase Judy from the face of the earth for what he has found hidden behind a gate of tantalizing code and blood.


	2. Chapter 2

Adults don’t see things they don’t want to see.

When Quentin had first started living with Judy, he’d been withdrawn, quiet, and obedient. He’s always been that way. Sometimes, he simply doesn’t wish to speak, or has nothing to say.

His aunt did nothing about it for the first month. Perhaps she assumed he had withdrawn into himself, but in reality, Quentin has never been one to waste time or energy on pointless things.

After that first month of tentatively stepping around each other, Judy finally began to get impatient and short with him. She would snap at him for the smallest infractions. She hadn’t wanted to look after a child, she’d say. When he’d started get more comfortable living with this stranger, he’d quickly learned that too many questions invoked Judy’s wrath, and anything but immediate obedience would earn him a smack over the head.

He learned to keep even quieter. He learned to do dishes. He learned what not to say to get Judy to take him to the library, or to let him go on his own. He learned that in this life, he no longer had rights, but  _privileges_ , and Judy would take them away for all sorts of reasons.

He discovered that those with the power could do things he could not.

It was only then that he began to question.

Good behavior wasn’t the answer. Getting good marks in school got him nowhere because Judy didn’t care. Doing as he was told wouldn’t win him the war.

Good behavior used to get him books. Good marks used to get him hugs and his mother’s adoring smile. Going to college would get him a good job, unlike his mother, who hadn’t had the same fortune as he growing up. She had instead been lucky to find a husband who came from money, and when he had unexpectedly died from terminal cancer three years ago, Quentin’s mother had inherited his estate. She had eventually been forced to sell their home to survive, but he hadn’t cared. The cold, empty house had only reminded him of the father he’d never really known.

He didn’t like Judy either. But he did know one thing about her that she hadn’t been able to hide for long.

Her life was on her laptop. This life also forced her to move around, and thus drag Quentin with her.

At first it was curiosity that drove him. Then as he lived with her longer, anger made him want to lash out. If he found out what was on her laptop, perhaps there would be something there that could change things. That could make them stand on more equal ground.

But nothing could prepare him for what he actually found.

Pictures. Records. Of cases. Of people. Of businesses. Of blood-soaked dealings. Judy had information she shouldn't be able to have. Judy had fingers in organizations that didn't exist. Judy had done things she should have been caught for having done.

Like she should have been caught for arranging Quentin's mother to be robbed and  _accidentally shot_  while on the way home from picking up a carton of cream and an ice cream for Quentin, who had aced his last math test.

It was from that moment on that Quentin vowed her demise. But it wouldn't be slow. No, for greedily wanting the fortune that would go to Quentin towards his care or to a charity in the event of his death, he would destroy her.

And it all started with a copy made of files that shouldn't exist, the tracks of which Quentin hid with a skill he'd developed in order to conquer a woman he had begun to hate.


	3. Chapter 3

Quentin looks down at his school bag with a frown. He's been sitting in this chair, waiting, for a good hour now and no one has come to talk to him. He's beginning to wonder if  _anyone_  is ever going to give him the "bad news."

Of course, he already technically knows. In fact, he'd orchestrated the whole thing, not that they have any idea. No, as far as anyone will ever be able to tell, Judy had had a little too much to drink before stumbling into traffic.

Well, that's what the police report is going to say. Her employers, and perhaps MI6, will know differently. Judy had met her demise after her entire career fell apart in one big swoop. First she pissed off the wrong people by bringing them faulty information, curtesy of Quentin's meddling on her computer. After that, things fell apart one by one until one of her current employers decided she was more trouble than she was worth and ensured her stumble off the kerb.

Quentin watched the whole thing through the CCTV network while sitting in bed, in his pajamas, fingers wrapped around a warm cup of tea .

After she was no more than a stain on the front of a city bus, he erased his presence from the computer and placed it back on Judy's desk. There was no point in cleaning off his fingerprints. What kid didn't use their guardian's laptop? Wiping it down would actually look more suspicious than leaving it as it was.

After all, what 13-year-old could hack a computer as well as he?

None.

"Quentin Thomas?"

He looks up from his school bag to see a female police officer kneeling in front of him. He stares at her blankly. She smiles warmly and holds out a cup of tea.

"Here. I imagine you could use a warm cuppa after all you've been waiting."

Quentin takes the tea and sips it quietly. He grimaces slightly at the peppermint flavour. He's always preferred Earl Grey.

"I have some bad news, Quentin." When he merely continues to stare blankly at her, she frowns slightly. "Your aunt, Judy, she had an accident a few hours ago. That's why Officer Jefferson picked you up from home. I'm afraid that she... Didn't make it.

Quentin widens his eyes in surprise. That was an interesting euphemism. He supposes no adult would ever tell a child that their only living relative was splattered across a bus at the moment, and that's why they didn't come home after "work".

"She's... Not coming back then?" he asks, as if he didn't understand exactly what she meant the first time.

The officer nods with a sad smile. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Oh. Um... What'll happen to me now?" He keeps his eyes wide. He already knows the answer. He'll either go to an orphanage or a foster family. He doesn't particularly care either way. Judy won't be getting his mother's money anymore to "take care of him", and that's all that matters to him right now.

The officer ruffles his hair. "Don't worry, little guy. Apparently, someone's already taken an interest in adopting you. She seems quite nice."

Quentin frowns. That's odd. Who would want to adopt him? In fact, it hadn't even made the news yet, so how could someone even know that he no longer has a guardian? "Who?"

The officer lady stands with a smile and sticks her head outside the door of the small office. "You can come in now, ma'am."

"Thank you."

Quentin stares at the short woman with cropped white hair that comes into the room. Blue eyes twinkle at him, surrounded by lines on her weathered face. She carries in her hand a briefcase.

"I have the paperwork with me. I'd like to take him tonight. A police station is no place for a young, impressionable boy."

The police woman frowns. "That was fast."

The white-haired anomaly continues to smile. "His future is rather important to me, and I know the right people to get something done in a timely manner, let's just say." She places her briefcase on the desk and pulls out a file. "Now, I trust you can take care of filing this?"

The officer takes the file and flips through it with a frown. "Everything seems to be in order. I'll go get this taken care of, then, while you two get acquainted." She walks out of the room at a brisk pace.

Quentin continues to stare at the new lady with wide eyes. "Who are you?"

The smile slowly drains from her face, leaving Quentin feeling unbalanced as a sliver of worry grows in his chest. "I believe a more pertinent question would be, who are  _you_ , to have done the things you've done."

Panic blooms in his chest as his fingers clench around the cup forgotten in his hands. "I don't know what you mean," he says, staring at her blankly.

She smiles, but it's a sharp thing compared to the warmth she'd exuded in the officer's presence. "You'll have to practice your lying, if you're ever to be believed. It's not a matter of erasing expression from your face, as it is believing yourself what you say. The best liars can lie to themselves."

Quentin sits and watches her, pushing aside the panic that wants to curdle inside him. The current proceedings are out of his control and depth, so it would be best to not say anything and see where this goes. As things stand, he simply doesn't have enough information.

After a moment of silence between them, she pulls out another file from the briefcase. "It says here you have top marks in your class, and your teacher has been pushing your aunt to let you skip a grade, but she refused. It also says that we have you to thank for various leaks and faulty information that led to your aunt's demise. There aren't many kids that can boast that kind of accomplishment at such a young age. It was quite masterfully orchestrated, and all of it done from your aunt's own laptop. Of course, you're hardly the best hacker out there. We employ some of the best, and you have them to thank for catching my eye."

Quentin keeps his expression blank. He had gone to some pains to remain untraceable, and still he'd been found out. The question was, did this lady intend to make him disappear, or hire him?

"You have two options. You can begin an apprenticeship with MI6, where we can keep an eye on you and train you to serve your country, or you can go to a foster family and promise never to make use of your unique talents again, and lead a normal life."

Quentin leaned back into the couch. "You can hardly expect me to make such a monumental decision based on so little information. What would training with MI6 entail? What would I be expected to do in your employment? At what age would I begin working for you? I imagine it's not the sort of thing one just 'retires' from after they become bored or weary of it."

She smiles. "Well, I'm glad your taking this offer seriously. I will answer your questions after we have returned to my home. Here is not the place for such things."

Quentin nods in acknowledgment. He is intrigued by the opportunity that this mysterious woman represents. He had quite enjoyed the challenge of crushing his aunt, who had deserved everything she'd got.

Perhaps this is for the best. He's always wanted a fast-paced, challenging occupation. School was so dull, after all. Perhaps now he can learn what he  _wants_  to learn.

In any case, it promises to be interesting.

The home she brings him to after they leave the station is empty of personal effects. In fact, he doubts it is her home at all. If she is nearly as important as he thinks she is, then it would be rather foolish to bring an unknown quantity into the home of the leader of MI6.

"This will be your home for the next week, if you choose to apprentice within MI6. If you don't, you will be placed with a family within 24 hours, where we will keep an eye on you to ensure you stay out of trouble." She places her briefcase down beside a comfortable looking chair and takes a seat. "Now, you have questions?"

Quentin sits in the plain beige chair across from her. "If I choose MI6, where will I live permanently?"

"With me. You will be my ward. As I go into work, so will you. You will be trained by private tutors, in a number of different subjects. This will only happen, however, if you pass a series of tests. We don't bring just anybody into our fold, after all."

Quentin nods thoughtfully. "To see if I may be a security risk?"

She smiles sharply. "We also would need to confirm that you would be suited to this kind of work. It can be stressful, and require that you make decisions you never thought you'd make."

Quentin nods thoughtfully. He wonders if she is normally this forthright with her potential acquisitions or simply sees him as a child. Perhaps a mix of both. "Would I be able to learn whatever I want?" He's always been frustrated by the lack of options in young education. Libraries and the Internet can only do so much, after all.

"Anything that may be useful, yes."

Quentin pretends to think about it more, but in reality he has already decided. What bored genius wouldn't want a curriculum specifically designed for them? He can only assume she has some sort of long term aspirations for his education. Perhaps there is a position she wants filled by someone trained specifically for it? Otherwise he doesn't see what she'll get out of this arrangement.

"What kind of career would be in store for me at MI6?" He might as well find out more while he still allowed these sorts of questions.

"That would depend entirely on you. You could fit into communications, handling, the research and development department. Perhaps even all of the above."

Quentin sees the anticipation in her eyes. She's seeing a future he is not privy to, and it excites her.

It'll be nice to not be bored again.

"Alright. I'm in."

Her smile reminds him of a shark circling its prey.


	4. Chapter 4

Quentin sits in his room quietly, new laptop in hand as he familiarizes himself with the upgrades and software on the machine. It's just as nice as Judy's, but different. 

M went to bed hours ago, but Quentin still can't sleep. He's too wired and excited. He'd finally finished the last battery of tests, and had been approved to live with M. He knew now that he was... her little side project. He hadn't met any others like him in MI6 headquarters, and many of the workers there had eyed him with varying degrees of confusion or disdain. Like he had no business being there. 

For a few days, Quentin was concerned. What if he didn't pass the tests? What if he got left with some family and was never allowed to touch a computer again? What if they disappeared him? 

It didn't take long for his fears to slowly melt away. M seemed rather invested in this gamble of taking him in, and even promised that once he had a few more years on him and experience under his belt, he could start working with the Double-Os in training. 

The prospect of it all is what is keeping him awake. He's seen and learned things in the past two weeks that make him near vibrate with anticipation. He can't wait to-  

It isn't so much a sound that makes him freeze. It isn't even his computer, hooked into the security of M's apartment without much work. No, it's something far more instinctual than that. It's the sense he's cultivated during the last few years living with Judy.  

Something isn't right. 

He sets off the silent alarm in M's room. She'll know what to do. It's never been explicitly stated by anyone that Quentin has to protect her, but he knows that without her, he will be discarded without much thought. 

He waits in his room until he hears voices. No gun shots. M doesn't seem frightened, but _annoyed_... 

Curious, he folds his laptop closed and tucks it under his arm before wandering up to the door. He puts his ear against the wood and freezes at the abrupt silence. 

The door swings open and Quentin finds himself faced with a gun. He ducks, and slams the edge of his laptop into an unprotected groin as he slips his way between the man's legs and makes for M. 

There's a groan behind him as he comes to a stop in front of M, heart pounding and breathing out of his mouth. 

"What the hell?" the man grunts, turning to stare at Quentin with striking blue eyes. 

M is chuckling. "That's what you get for breaking in to my home again, 007." 

Quentin's eyes widen at the name. He just bashed in the nuts of a Double-O with a laptop. 

"Hmm. Who's the midget?" He's recovered remarkably fast from the sharp attack to his jewels. Q is surprised, then immediately chastises himself for underestimating the weapon standing in front of him..

"None of your concern," M snaps. 

Quentin and 007 stare at each other for a long moment before the man straightens his suit and hides his gun in one gesture. "Really. Any potential threat is my concern."

M snorts. "He is but a child, with no sordid history of the kind you're implying. He's a young talent. One I intend to cultivate. So if you'll stop threatening the boy, I won't have you thrown out of the service."

The blue-eyed man just smiles, as if he knows something M doesn't know. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

Her eyes narrow. "If you break into my home again, 007, you will not see another morning."

He just smiles, an "Oh, that's cute" smile that oozes smug self-importance. 

Quentin doesn't like him already. 

"Careful with your toys, pipsqueak." 

Quentin's eyes narrow, but he says nothing. He knows better than to talk shit when he has nothing to back it up. He can't wait to start his lessons. 

It's months before Quentin sees the infamous 007.

He doesn't break into M's home again, and although Quentin has tweaked the security system to find the hole, he doubts the agent's lack of appearance is due to his efforts. If there's one thing he's learned in the last few information-packed months, it's to never underestimate a Double-O. 

No, he actually runs into the agent coming out of M's office. Literally.  

"Watch where you're going, pipsqueak." 

Quentin picks himself up off the ground with a scowl, but doesn't say anything. He wants to slip by to get into M's office, where it's safer, but he doesn't like the idea of getting closer than necessary. 

007 doesn't move. No, he stares down at Quentin with an odd look on his face. "You going to apologize?" 

Quentin's eyes narrow. "I'm sorry your bulk takes up the entire doorway. You going to move?" It falls from his lips before he can pull it back. A thrill of fear races up his spine, and he stands up taller in defiance. 

007 smiles, skin crinkling around intense blue eyes and softening them. He seems genuinely amused as he steps to the side to let Quentin pass. 

Quentin stalks past him and misses the foot that slips into his guard and trips him. He catches himself before he can smack face-first into the door, and he is _not impressed_. 

"Watch your step," the Double-O murmurs with a deep, throaty chuckle before moving on down the hallway. 

Quentin glares after him for a good three seconds before going through the door to M's office. 

"Is he always an insufferable berk?" he mutters under his breath as he flops into the chair across from M's desk. 

She snorts. "I take it you ran into 007?" 

"Quite." 

"He drives everyone up the walls." She's scowling, but a smile twinkles in her eye nonetheless. Quentin mentally adds the anomaly to his file. All the data he has this far points to a rather odd relationship between M and her number one operative. "Especially Q Branch. I'm afraid you'll just have to get used to it." 

"Wonderful," Quentin mutters under his breath. He knows enough about MI6 now to know that's exactly where he's headed. It's the department that looks the most challenging and suits his talents the best. 

"How are your classes going?" 

Quentin straightens in his chair. No matter how comfortable he is beginning to feel here and in M's presence, it doesn't change the fact that this is a woman to be respected. "Well enough."

She snorts. "Right. Jeremy says you're bored and flying through the material faster than he can teach it." When Quentin says nothing, turning his gaze to stare at the ugly flag-painted pug on her desk, she continues. "Well, speak up about such things. If you already know something, tell Jeremy. If there's something that interests you, tell Jeremy. It's his job to get you any books or materials you need."/p>

Quentin fidgets. "I don't want to seem ungrateful."  

She barks out a laugh. "That's the least of our worries." 

"And... I'm not the only one under Jeremy. I don't want to..." Quentin struggles to find the words to express the nameless fear within him. It's unnerving to have so much _attention_ on him when he's used to being ignored. He almost craves the solitude and freedom to roam and study whatever he wishes. "I..." 

"Well? Spit it out. I haven't got all day." 

Quentin closes his eyes and steels his nerves. "I'm used to self-directed study. And Jeremy can't answer all the questions I have." 

"Then what would you suggest?" 

Quentin thinks about it. "I'd like to start visiting the library again, if I may."  

"Any books you need can be brought here."

Quentin shakes his head. "It's not the same. In a library I can go to another section to read or check up on something in the book I'm currently reading. This makes things go much faster, since I can work through things I don't understand at my own pace, as thoroughly as I wish. If someone else were to just bring books to me, I wouldn't be able to see with my own eyes what else is available."

M stares at him for a long moment before nodding her head. "I'll talk to Jeremy. See if an escort can be arranged." She turns back to her computer and starts typing. "I'm afraid I have some work to do tonight, so someone will be coming by to take you home at 5." 

Quentin nods and stands up, knowing a dismissal when he sees one. "Thank you." 

He leaves quietly, a small smile quirking his lips. He can't wait to get back between musty shelves. 


	5. Chapter 5

A few years passed by before Quentin is finally allowed to work with the agents in training. He finds it therapeutic to snark at them for the smallest of transgressions. He knows M finds his demand for perfection amusing, considering his age and status within MI6 as "that brat intern," and it only encourages him to come up with even more creative ways to insult her agents' intelligence. 

He doesn't mind the rumors. Doesn't care about the things the agents say about him when he hacks the surveillance in their dorms. Ignores the way some people get annoyed at his growing expertise while others just accept it. _Genius_ , they say.

Quentin has never particularly cared.

He doesn't waste his attention on such things, as his work and studies requires his absolute focus every moment of every day. M says he's a workaholic. Quentin says he just gets bored. 

He's sixteen the first time he's given a live operative to work with. There are multiple Double-O's out in the field at the moment, and one has twenty minutes to hack her way out of a metal death trap. 

Quentin is amazed 006 still has cellular service. He cracks into her cellphone in thirty seconds and has access to the door's keypad in the ten minutes it takes him to walk the agent through hooking the cell phone into the system. 

The whole time, his Quartermaster is berating him his choice of action, but is too busy dealing with an agent defusing a bomb to be of any real use. Quentin mentally compartmentalizes him as a distraction and resolutely ignores every word out of the man's mouth until he has cracked open the lock, the door, and the system it's hooked into. 

He scowls at the 14 minute mark and clicks on his earpiece. "006. As I'm sure you will have no difficulty crawling your way out of the sub basement of MI6, I'll take my leave of you. I do have other things I could be doing, besides assisting in a training exercise." 

There's a long pause. "The training exercise was for _you_ ," the agent mutters into the radio.

"Yes, well, next time make it more difficult," he snipes, irritable, before stalking out of the room. The Quartermaster is still shouting at the agent at the other end of his own radio, and Quentin has no desire to stick around for 007's inevitable demise.  

M is waiting for him in his relatively new office, separate from all the others in Q Branch. He's still not officially a member of the team, though this isn't the first time he's been called in to assist with something or other. This is the first time he feels slighted, however. 

"I hear from 006 that you performed remarkably, today. Kept a cool head, responded promptly to changes in the situation, and solved the problem in a unique and very effective way." When Quentin says nothing, she smiles. "Well, good job. I think you're finally ready to officially join Q Branch, wouldn't you say?" 

Quentin just looks at her for a moment, searching for any signs of dishonesty. Really, M is the head of a MI6. Quentin shouldn't expect to be able to read her, as she _lies for a living_. "Will I be allowed to continue my studies and private projects?" 

"Of course. You'll only be working there part time, for now, mostly on whatever project Q feels you are able to contribute.  

Wonderful to be officially under that bastard's thumb, now. Ever since Quentin had begun assisting in Q Branch, the barmy old coot had been insufferable. 

"I also feel you are ready to live on your own, if you are not disagreeable to the suggestion. If you choose to rent a flat with the salary you've been allotted, then I will have Jeremy check in on you from time to time." 

Quentin nods. He enjoyed living with M infinitely more than living with His ex-aunt, but that doesn't mean he'd like to live with her indefinitely. "That would be acceptable." It also means he can finally have a pet, if he still wants one. He always thought a cat would have the greatest chance of survival. With one of those timed dispensing machines, he wouldn't have to worry about making sure the thing got fed and watered. What else did he have to spend his accrued money on? 

M smiles. "Very well. I'll have the paperwork drawn up. Have your bags packed by the end of the week. I'm sure something will have been found for you by then. Jeremy will, of course, have to sign for you, since you are still a minor. 

Quentin shrugs, and starts daydreaming about quiet cups of tea in the morning, wandering around all weekend in his pajamas, and otherwise having a place all to himself. 

It's a good feeling. 


End file.
